


New Kid on the Block

by elioolivercmbyntrash



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Angst, Bullying, Cyberbullying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, High School AU, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Just be careful reading, Luca is the principal, M/M, Mental Illness, Mentions of alcoholism, Modern AU, Oliver sticks up for elio, Panic Attacks, Self Harm, Sick Character, Sick Fic, Sickfic, So much angst, Suicidal Thoughts, TW HOMOPHOBIC LANGUAGE, Unreliable Narrator, Vomiting, armie is elio's therapist, btw the unreliable narrator is me, descriptions of self harm, elio's the new kid, lmaooooooo, mental health, mentions of child abuse (physical/verbal), mentions of physical abuse, more tags to be added later probably, possibly graphic, tw, tw bullying, what a trip lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:40:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25993864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elioolivercmbyntrash/pseuds/elioolivercmbyntrash
Summary: Elio Perlman has just moved to Cambridge, MA, after his father took a job at Harvard. Being the new kid is hard enough, but there's one kid that seems intent on making his life hell, causing Elio's mental health to spiral.
Relationships: Oliver/Elio Perlman
Comments: 44
Kudos: 61





	1. chapter one

They pin him to the lockers. They laugh at him and spit in his face, and Elio wriggles and tries to escape. He tries to kick one of them in the balls, but he misses and someone grabs his legs. Tears slide down Elio's nose and pool at the end, dripping into his mouth.

"Stop!" he whimpers. "Please!"

"You're a faggot and a freak," says Nate. He spits in his face and kicks him in the stomach. 

They drop Elio to the floor and leave the locker room. 

“Are you OK?” 

Elio looks up. It’s Oliver, a kid on the basketball team. One of Nate’s group of jocks. “Don’t pretend to care. You were watching the whole time and didn’t try to stop them.”

“I...It...If I’d tried to stop them, they would beat me up too.”

“Fuck you.” He watches Oliver leave.

Elio's body shakes as he tries to push himself up. He tries to catch his breath. The bell rings for third period, but Elio heads to the restrooms. He doesn't care about History. He hates this school and America and wishes Papa didn’t take the Harvard position. He misses his friends and impromptu weekend visits to the villa and Mafalda’s cooking.

"It'll just be for a year, then we'll go back to Milan," Samuel had said. "It'll be good to study abroad for a year."

Elio does not agree.

He locks himself in a bathroom stall and wipes his tears with the sleeves of the stupid school uniform he wears. 

Elio can't breathe; his breath gets caught somewhere in his throat, and he tries to open his mouth wider, but his lips tingle. He wonders if he is dying. He coughs, gags, vomits into the toilet bowl, spits out bile and catches his breath. 

His phone vibrates. He unlocks it and checks his notifications. He reads the private messages sent to him on Twitter and Instagram from an anonymous person.

_ You should kill yourself lmao  _

_ Are you sure you're a dude?  _

_ Bet your father sleeps with little girls and boys lol he looks like a paedo _

_ I heard you like to suck your mom _

_ Faggot  _

_ Freak _

Elio puts his phone on silent and stuffs it in his backpack. He vomits again. Maybe he should call his mamma so she can come and pick him up because he’s sick. He won’t tell her about the bullying or the panic attack, though. 

“How do you like your new school?” Marzia had asked when they called via FaceTime at the weekend.

“Apart from some of these kids being pretentious, it’s fine,” He’d replied. He didn’t tell her they laugh at his accent, or how he sits by himself at lunch, or that they call him a faggot and gay because he doesn’t look like a jock, even though he’s good at sports.

Elio splashes his face with water and leaves the restroom. He heads to the library, and almost collides with Mr Murphy, his homeroom teacher.

“You’re supposed to be in history class,” says Mr Murphy.

Elio hugs himself.

“Why aren’t you in class?” Mr Murphy asks. 

Elio likes Mr Murphy. He is a kind, patient man with grey hair and horn-rimmed tortoiseshell glasses. Elio wants to tell Mr Murphy things aren’t OK, that they call him faggot and hit him. He wants to tell him he sometimes thinks about dying to make it all stop.

“I didn’t feel well,” he says.

“Do you need to go to the nurse?”

“I think I’ll be OK.”

“Are you sure? You don’t look very well, really, Elio.”

Elio tilts his head back and tenses his muscles. “I don’t know.”

“Let’s go to the nurse’s office and see if mom can pick you up, shall we?”

Elio nods. He blinks rapidly to stop the tears from rolling down his face and glances at his reflection in his phone screen. Mr Murphy is right; he looks sick. His eyes are puffy, his face pale and clammy. 

Elio suddenly gags and rushes to vomit into a trashcan.

*

“Why’d you do that?” Oliver asks when he catches up with Nate.

“Do what?”

“Beat up the new kid like that. Kinda makes you a jerk, you know.”

“It’s fun,” Nate says. “Do you have a problem with it?”

Oliver has a problem with it, but he doesn’t tell Nate this. Nate’s dad is a school governor and would get Oliver off the basketball team if he says anything. 

He feels bad for the new kid. He’s not only the new kid, he’s from Italy and has an Italian accent and he looks androgynous. He’s also incredible at the piano, and plays tennis and basketball well, and is smart.

All Nate has is sport and a father who is a school governor. 

Oliver has interesting feelings for Elio. He likes the way his name sounds, and he likes his Italian accent. He likes Elio’s eyes, the way they seem to change colour depending on the light. Sometimes they look green, sometimes they look hazel. Oliver can always tell how Elio feels, too, by looking at Elio’s eyes.

“No,” he says. “I don’t have a problem with it.”

“Good. I don’t want to find out that you’re also a faggot, you know.”

*

A week later, Elio shoots an impressive three pointer. He catches Oliver’s eye when he hears a cheer, and Oliver smiles and winks at him. Elio feels his dick push against the fabric of his underwear and gym shorts and blushes. He prays that no one will notice. Why can’t his body behave itself? A few days ago he had a huge zit on his forehead, and now this.

No one says anything. He supposes they don’t dare when the teacher is around.

When he is walking to class, his phone vibrates. He opens the Instagram link.

An anonymous Instagram account has posted a photo of Elio’s erection. There’s two photos; one of Elio’s full body, with a circle drawn around his erection, and a closeup. The caption reads  _ New kid is a faggot lmao. _ They haven’t tagged him, whoever posted it. There’s no mention of the school, and all evidence of the school is not visible. 

He sits at the back of class. The other kids watch him sit down. They’ve got their phones out and they’re whispering and giggling.

They’ve seen the photo.

*

“You’ve not touched your dinner,” Annella says. 

“Not hungry,” Elio says. He spears a piece of chicken with his fork, puts it to his mouth, and puts it down as bile rises in his throat. He swallows. “I don’t feel well. Maybe I shouldn’t go to school tomorrow.”

“You were only off sick last week, darling. You can’t be sick again.”

“How is school?” asks Samuel.

Elio shrugs. “It’s OK.”

“I know you miss Italy, Elly Belly. It’s not easy starting a new school in a new country. You’re doing really well.” Samuel reaches to ruffle Elio’s hair when Elio gags. He pushes his chair back and dashes to the bathroom, Annella following close behind.

“Goodness,” Annella says, as she rubs Elio’s back. “I think we should take you to a doctor, bambino.”

“I’m fine,” says Elio. 

“Is everything OK at school?”

“Yes,” he lies. “Everything’s great at school.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update comes with a trigger warning. There is a description of self harm and suicidal ideation. Take care.

Elio persuades his mother that he doesn’t need a doctor, and she agrees to this if there are no more vomiting episodes. 

"If something is upsetting you, sweetheart, you know you can talk to Papa and me," she says. 

"I know," says Elio. He won't talk about this, though. Not a chance. He knows that his parents will be disappointed because they expect him to make the most of spending a year at school in America, and he’s ruining it. 

He tries to forget about the photo on Instagram. He tries not to think about the thousands of likes it got, how it’s become a meme. The whole world laughs at him, and whoever posted it got what they wanted. 

In Elio’s dreams he’s standing on a stage and he’s got an erection he can’t get rid of. He tries to get rid of it, because his penis is so swollen, but his hand stops working and he can't masturbate. His penis swells and he thinks it will explode and everyone’s laughing at him. He wakes up drenched in sweat.

He’s started to piss the bed, too, like he’s a little kid again. The first time it happened, he tried to find clean sheets at 3am in the dark, and tripped over the laundry basket, waking his mother. She’s shown him how to use the washing machine and he keeps a change of sheets in his wardrobe just in case. 

“I’m worried about you, darling,” she said.

“I was dreaming that I was peeing, and I woke up and it wasn’t a dream,” Elio had replied. He’s got good at lying.

Elio learns to avoid Nate. The music room becomes his sanctuary, and the music teacher agrees to let Elio have access during lunch so he can play the piano. He loses himself in composing, the bell often startling him when it rings to signal the end of lunch. Playing the piano is the only time he feels happy.

Elio tries to ignore the messages that he continues to get, but he worries that they are right; he is a freak and a faggot and he should kill himself. He tries to block the person and delete the messages, but whoever it is keeps creating new accounts. Why is this person so set on tormenting him? Elio thinks back to his first week at school and tries to remember if he said something offensive, or if he did something offensive, but all he remembers is stumbling over his words when he introduced himself in homeroom.

"How are you settling in," asks Anna, his guidance counsellor, one morning in November. The weather is crisp and cold and it'll be Thanksgiving break soon. Elio’s skin is dull, there's bags beneath his eyes and his eyes are burning from lack of sleep. 

"OK," says Elio. 

"Yeah? You're happy? Made friends?"

"Yes." Elio looks at his feet.

"Your homeroom teacher said he's a bit worried because you seem quiet and withdrawn. He says that your teachers are worried too, because you’re not doing too well in some of your classes. You had excellent grades in your old school. Are you finding it hard to adjust to the curriculum here?” She has a soothing voice, and Elio wants her to tell him it's going to be OK.

“No. The curriculum is fine. I’m probably not trying hard enough,” says Elio. He stares at his hands and twirls his fingers.

Anna purses her lips. “I’m not sure if I believe that. You don’t come across as a lazy student. And your English is perfect, so we don’t have to worry about a language barrier. Mr Philips has nothing but praise for you, though. I hear you’re a musical genius. I know you're only a Sophomore, but it's never too early to start thinking about schools."

"I thought I wanted to go to Julliard, because I wanted to study in America. But since we moved here, I think I would rather be in Italy. The Conservatoire in Rome would be amazing. Or maybe even Paris." 

“That’s great. But Elio, those are all top schools. You will need excellent grades to get in. They’ll expect you to have a high GPA. Your Music grade alone would not be enough to get in. So, either you try harder, or you ask for help. OK?”

Elio nods. He does need to try harder, but he's not sure what the point of homework is.

"And what career do you hope to have?"

"I want to be a classical pianist. I've wanted to do that forever."

“You can definitely achieve that,” Anna says. “If you ever need to chat, you know where to find me.”

*

The week before the break, someone creates a fake account on Instagram, pretending to be Elio. He gets a text message as he waits to go into English class, and he opens the link. Has someone hacked his account? He checks, and his account is still there, still the same. He clicks back onto the other page and realises that someone's created this account to humiliate him. 

He reads the caption: _I’m a fucking Italian twink._

The person takes several photos from Elio’s Instagram; two selfies, a photo of him and his parents, a photo of him with his friends back in Italy, and they call him a fag, a twink, a poofter. The photo of his erection is also on there.

Each photo is tagged #ishouldkillmyself.

Elio wants to die. He wants to fucking die. He hates this. He doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve any of this, or what he's done in his past life. His breath gets stuck in his chest. His body shakes, pins and needles spreading up his arms and over his face and his head spins and he bends over, wheezing.

“Are you OK?” someone places a hand on his shoulder and Elio shrugs it off. 

“Have you seen this?” someone else says, a soft voice, musical. Elio’s not sure who, because his vision is blurry from the tears that gather in the corner of his eyes.

“Shit. What the hell is that? Should we say -”

“No,” says Elio. “No.” He blinks, brushes the tears from his cheeks. “Don’t say anything.”

“But, someone’s...they shouldn’t be doing this,” the soft voice again; it's Madison, a smart, gentle girl with chocolate brown curls. 

“Yeah, this is bullying,” says the other voice, Oliver. Oliver who is Nate’s friend and who is pretending to care.

“I don’t care,” says Elio. Lying, again. It's surprising his nose is not growing.

“Elio?” their English teacher says. She looks him up and down, her brows furrowed. “Are you OK?”

“I don’t feel well,” he says.

“Go and see the nurse,” she says. 

Elio goes to the restrooms and finds the sharpener he stole from art class a few days ago. He’s taken the blade out. He rolls his sleeves up and pretends to pull the blade down his arm, his rehearsal. He's read about this and knows how to hit the right arteries, how to avoid them. He’s shaking as he holds it against his skin, hesitating. What if someone sees? What if it scars? What if he goes too deep?

He deserves this. He needs this. He should kill himself. That’s what they tell him, whoever this person is. 

Elio wants to die. He wants his mamma. He wants to go back to Italy. He wants to tell someone what’s happening. He doesn’t want any trouble.

Elio gasps as he slices his skin. He watches the blood run down his arm. The feeling is almost euphoric; this is what he deserves. He can control this. He wipes the blade on a piece of toilet paper and cuts himself again. 

*

"Your teachers are worried," his father says, as they put dishes away. "Your school work isn't as expected."

"I'll try harder," says Elio. "Maybe I just need more time to settle. Jesus, Papa. We've moved to America and I'm expected to still be a straight A student?"

"There's a difference between getting Bs or Cs, or even Ds, and failing, Elio."

Elio picks up a plate and smashes it on the floor. Sammy stares at him like he doesn’t recognize his son, and he's not the only one who doesn't recognize Elio.

"You will clean that up," says Sammy. "And then we need to sit down with mom and have a chat, kiddo."

*


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Elio breaks, Oliver confronts the bully and Annella blames herself.

Annella makes hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows for the three of them. Earlier, she noticed cuts on Elio’s arms and she’s sure they are self-inflicted. Elio’s been so quiet and withdrawn since moving to America. Annella had begged Sammy not to take the job at Harvard, not because Annella didn’t want him to succeed, but because she was worried about Elio adjusting to life in America. 

“It’s not fair,” she’d said, when Sammy told her about the job offer. “Elio’s at high school. Is it really worth us moving to America just for one year? It’ll unsettle him.”

“He’ll be fine,” Sammy replied. 

Annella knows Elio better than Sammy does. Elio’s always been a quiet, sensitive child who Annella wishes she could wrap up in cotton wool and protect from the world forever. 

She’s looked online at what to do if Elio is self-harming, and they recommend not doing everything Annella wants to do. She wants to ask all of the questions and hide everything in the house that’s sharp. If they stayed in Milan and didn’t make Elio move halfway across the world, he wouldn’t be self-harming. She’s failed him as a parent.

She places three mugs of hot chocolate on the coffee table and sits herself next to Elio, and notices his body relax when she reaches to stroke his hair. 

“Now, darling, how are you?” she asks.

“I’m fine,” Elio snaps.

“You’re failing your classes and you smashed a plate,” says Sammy. “Either America’s changed you, or something’s upsetting you.”

Elio’s lip begins to tremble as his mother continues to stroke his hair, and his Papa rubs his back in soothing circles. Elio watches the fire as it crackles and dances and he thinks about the cuts under his sweater. He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Annella wipes away a tear with her thumb.

“I’m sorry,” says Elio.

“What about, sweetheart?” says Annella. 

“I hate school. I...I hate it. I don’t, I...they…they’re...I’m being bullied.” Elio puts his head in his hands, the dam that he’s been holding back for months since it started breaking. Annella wraps her arms around him and pulls him into her. She rocks him, blinking her own tears away.

"Oh,  _ bambino _ . We’re here. Cry it all out." 

"Elly-Belly, you've done the right thing by telling us," says Sammy. 

So he tells them. He tells them how from his first day one of the kids mocked him because of his Italian accent and started calling him a faggot, because he looked like a twink. He was picked last in gym class, and no one wanted to sit with him at lunch because if you challenge Nate, he beats you up, and once Nate’s decided he doesn’t like someone, you’re his target. The kid is invincible because his dad is a governor; Nate wouldn’t be at the school without his dad being on the board. 

He tells them that he’s failing because he forgets about his homework, and sometimes when he gets home he’s too exhausted to do anything, or he sits down and tries but his brain won’t work, and he’s got so many thoughts rushing around up there he wants to scream.

“There’s also an Instagram account,” says Elio. “Someone made a fake account pretending to me and they’re tagging me as faggot, saying I should kill msyelf. I get all these messages, but I don’t know who they’re from.”

“What?” Sammy says, his voice elevated. “Have you reported this to Instagram?”

“I haven’t told anyone,” Elio says.

“Let’s leave that for tonight,” says Annella. “I think you’re too tired to continue talking about it. You need some sleep.”

“I don’t want you to tell the school,” says Elio.

“We have to,” says Annella.

“It’ll make things worse!”

“I understand you’re worried, darling, but the school needs to deal with this.”

*

Elio locks himself in his en-suite. His heart's racing, he cuts, and his heart slows down and his mind slows down. He slips into bed and goes to sleep, his body floating on a soft cloud.

*

Annella peaks through Elio’s door. It's only 10pm, but he's fast asleep on his tummy, his facial features soft. She tiptoes into his room, pulls the comforter further up his body and kisses his forehead.

*

"What the fuck's this?" asks Oliver, showing Nate the Instagram account. 

"A fake Instagram account?"

Oliver clenches his jaw. "Don't pretend like you don't know who created this. Look at the captions and the tags. This is bullying. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I just don't like the kid, OK?" he says. Nate isn't sure why he hurts Elio. It was a fun game in the beginning to put the new kid in his place, but Nate doesn't know how to stop. He enjoys humiliating Elio, and he knows it makes him a bad person. Elio’s amazing at the piano, he's amazing at sport and he's intelligent, and Nate thinks Elio needs humbling. 

"OK, fine. You don't have to like him. Just stop hurting him."

"Are you, like, attracted to him? Are you a faggot too?"

"If you don’t quit hurting him, I'll tell the teachers."

Nate punches Oliver, and breaks his nose.

*

Elio is exhausted when he wakes up for school. He tries to feign a tummy ache, but Annella knows he's lying.

"We are talking to the principal today," she says. She notices a blood stain on his sweater and she wants to hurt the boy who hurt her baby. "Both myself and Papa. The school needs to know."

"Fine."

*

They sit in the principal's office. It's a dark green room, with a large desk that's littered with papers, and there's a painting of the Vatican on the wall. The principal, Mr Guadagnino, has dark, receding hair and wears a green tie. He’s from Italy too, he tells them. He moved to the States to study at Harvard, and now he's in his late 40s, he knows he won't go back.

"Elio told us last night that he's being bullied," says Sammy.

"Bullying isn't tolerated in this school. Do you know who is doing the bullying?"

Sammy recounts Elio's story.

"Nathaniel Schmidt?" says Mr Guadagnino. "He is already in trouble because he broke a boy's nose yesterday. Professor and Mrs Perlman, I can assure you the school will investigate this. We take all allegations of bullying incredibly seriously and will ensure that the student responsible for this is punished accordingly." He digs into one of the drawers and hands the Perlmans a copy of the bullying policy.

"Elio will be supported by the guidance counsellor, Anna. He has a good relationship with her," continued the principal. "I will keep you updated with my investigations, which I will start right away."

*

Elio sits in Anna's office, on one of her bean bag chairs, clutching a mug of peppermint tea. His eyes hurt from crying and he's got a headache, and a stomach ache.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Anna asks.

"I was ashamed."

"Ashamed?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because all of this is my fault."


	4. Chapter 4

"You asshole!" screams Nate, grabbing Elio and pushing him into the restrooms.

He corners Elio and pushes him into a stall. Elio tries to fight him, tries to push him away, but Nate towers over him. There are rumours that Nate’s been held back a few grades, because he’s too muscular for a 16-year-old. 

Elio freezes as Nate locks them both in the stall and pushes Elio onto his knees. He gags and pukes into the toilet, and Nate laughs. He grabs the back of Elio’s head and pushes his face into the toilet bowl. Elio closes his eyes and his mouth as his head dives under the foul water. Vomit goes up his nose and into his ears and Elio panics; what if Nate drowns him? Elio can't breathe. He tries to pull his head out of the water. He needs to pee and prays that his body will hold onto his urine. 

"I'm off the fucking basketball team and banned from all the sports teams and the locker room because of you, you faggot, " Nate says, pulling Elio’s head out of the toilet bowl. Nate’s face is red, his cheeks puffing out. "You're a piece of shit."

Nate throws the door open and walks out of the restrooms.

Elio locks the stall and crouches on the floor, tears stinging his eyes. The acidic smell of puke dripping down his face overwhelms him and he vomits.

Why did he tell his parents? 

He tries to wipe his face with toilet paper, but there's too many chunks of food and he keeps gagging, and the toilet paper rips easily. 

Elio wants to die. 

"Elio? Are you in here?"

He recognizes Oliver’s voice and draws in a sharp breath. He doesn’t need anyone to see him like this, hair and face soaked, covered in his own puke and toilet bowl water, teeth chattering.

"Elio?" Anna's voice. Elio draws his knees to his chin. He wishes they'd never left Italy, and he’s angry. He wants to scream and shout at his father, steal his credit card and get on a plane back home. He could stay with Marzia, or go to the villa; the winter break isn't far away anyway and Mafalda will be there, getting it ready. The villa is his sanctuary. He dreams of sitting by the fire with a book and a coffee, his feet resting in his maman's lap, eating Mafalda’s warming soups, snowball fights with Papa, hot chocolate and Hanukkah. 

He's pulled out of his daydreams by a knock. "Elio? It's Anna. Oliver says he saw Nate take you in the restrooms. Are you in here, honey? You're not going to get in trouble."

Elio pulls himself up and unlocks the stall door.

"Oh, gosh," says Anna. "What happened? Let's get you cleaned up."

"I don’t want to be here," Elio says, his voice breaking. "I want to go home."

"Oliver, class starts soon," Anna says. "I know you've got History; please mention that Elio’s with me so won't be in class."

"OK," says Oliver. He looks at Elio and Elio sees the pity in his eyes. 

"What happened?" Anna asks. 

"He...he pushed my head in the toilet and flushed. I don’t know why I puked. Please, I want to go home. I want my mamma."

"Who did this?"

"Nate. I knew I shouldn't have said anything!"

"This is not your fault," Anna says. "I'll call your mom, and the principal. Go wash your face."

But it is his fault. If he'd not broken the plate, if he'd not had the chat with his parents, if he'd not felt so safe with them, things would be the same.

*

Elio showers. He declines his mother's offer to wash his hair for him, because he can’t let her see the cuts on his arm. Once he's washed his hair he slices his shoulder. It doesn’t hurt as much in the shower, but the blood runs quicker, staining the water pink. Elio checks the wound. He’s cut deeper than he planned.

*

"I want to move schools," says Elio. He clutches a mug of sugary tea.

"I've spoken to the principal and he's updated me on how the school is dealing with this following the incident," says Annella. 

"Mamma, it won't do anything. It will only make things worse."

Annella puts a hand on Elio’s shoulder, and he grimaces when the fabric rubs against the cuts. 

"You're bleeding," says Annella.

Elio pushes her hand off and runs upstairs, locking his bedroom. He sits against his door, his breathing is heavy and fast. 

"Elio?" 

"Leave me alone," he says.

"I'll be here when you're ready to talk, sweetheart. I care about you and I want to help you."

*

"This is unacceptable," says Mr Guadagnino. "I have never been so shocked by the behaviour of one of the students at this school, Nate. Never. I am talking to your parents tomorrow morning, and you will be present at that meeting. You will now spend your lunchtime and all your breaks in my office, supervised."

"What? That's not fair."

"You are lucky I don't suspend you. You do not treat anyone the way you have treated Elio. Do you have any empathy? Do you enjoy hurting people?"

"No, sir," says Nate. But he does enjoy hurting others and he doesn't know why. 

*

"I don't want to go to school tomorrow," Elio says at the dinner table. "Please don't make me go. I can’t handle it anymore."

"Your education is important," his father says.

"I can't learn there, Papa. I don’t care about my damn education. I hate that school. I hate this country. I hate you. I fucking hate you both!" 

Elio slams his bedroom door and locks it, and finds a knife he stole from the kitchen. They don't understand. How can they let him continue to go to a school where he's treated like a punching bag? He holds the knife over his arm, his hand shaking. He closes his eyes and sees his parents finding him bleeding out on his bedroom floor. His mamma would scream; she's told him that he's her miracle, her only baby to survive in the womb and make it to 9 months. His Papa would never forgive himself, would quit his job and start drinking.

Elio bursts into tears and goes downstairs. His parents are sitting on the couch drinking a glass of wine, talking in hushed voices.

"Mamma, Papa, I need help. Please."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things will get better!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elio tells his parents he's self-harming and asks for help.

“I need help," says Elio.

Samuel Perlman looks at his son. Elio's skinnier than he was three months ago, and there's no twinkle left in his eyes. Elio used to be cheeky. He used to love being showered with physical affection by Sammy and Annella, and he never spent hours hiding in his bedroom like most teenagers.

When Elio tells them that he needs help because he's self-harming, Sammy feels nauseous. He wants to march down to the school in the morning and demand the principal suspends or expels the child who has turned Elio into a mess. Why would he do something like that to himself? Does he not respect his body? Does he not respect the life his parents gave him? Sammy is overwhelmed. He’s not worried about showing his emotions, but he knows that now is not the time to start crying. He opens his mouth to say something, but Annella stops him.

"What do you need?" she asks.

-

Sammy wants to know how she's so calm. Did she know? Did she guess? Annella has a connection to Elio that Sammy never understands but puts down to Elio spending 9 months growing inside Annella’s womb.

Annella is a beautiful mother. Before Elio was born, Annella had a few miscarriages. Four, he thinks it was. He suggested they give up trying and adopt instead, if Annella needed a child. He didn’t want her going through that again; the initial joy at discovering she was pregnant destroyed by the grief of losing a child sometimes just a week later was painful. Annella blamed herself for each miscarriage and Sammy hated that she punished herself.

"One more try," she said. "Please."

Five was her lucky number, she said. 

Nine months later, Elio was born. He’s their miracle, and Sammy’s never known a love like the one he has for his child.

What if Elio tries to end his life?

-

“I don't know," says Elio, sniffing. He’s crying again, and he looks so tired. When did he last sleep? Last eat? Sammy can’t remember seeing Elio finish a full meal since late August. How did they not pick up that something was wrong? Elio’s never been a picky eater and always had a healthy appetite. 

"Do you want to see a therapist?" Annella asks.

"You should give us whatever it is you are using to cut yourself," Sammy says. "Hand it over. Come on."

Elio shakes his head.

“If you’re going to refuse, we’ll have to search your room and bathroom for anything sharp. And lock away everything in the house that’s sharp.”

“Sammy,” Annella says. “That’s not the way to deal -”

“So you’re just going to let him keep cutting himself?” cries Sammy. “Why are you even doing it anyway?”

“I...I don’t know.”

“Then just stop doing it!”

“I can’t. I just can’t, OK? I...I need it. I can’t cope with this shit.”

“Sammy. Please. Go and make us all a cup of tea.”

Sammy glances at Elio. He’s trembling, shaking, and he looks so weak, and it shocks Sammy how vulnerable his son looks. He has to trust Annella, but if Elio’s still self-harming in a week, he will go through the house and remove all sharp objects.

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” says Elio, staring at his toes.

“You did the right thing, sweetheart,” says Annella. “Papa’s upset because he cares about you.”

“He’s angry.”

“No, he’s not,” says Annella. “We are both pleased you told us. Would you like to see a therapist?”

“I guess,” says Elio. “I’m sorry. I haven’t made you or Papa proud of me. I keep messing up.”

“None of this is your fault.”

Annella hopes Sammy is hurrying up with the tea. This is the first time she’s felt helpless as a mother. She managed the crying, the puking, potty training, fevers, tantrums, bed wetting and everything else, although she never really knew what she was doing. She knows she needs to remain calm.

Elio rubs his eyes with his fists and yawns. He rests his head on her shoulder. “But what if it is? What if I deserve to be bullied?”

“Elio. Listen to me. You do not deserve to be bullied, and none of this is your fault. Do you think you’d feel comfortable talking to Anna about this?”

“Maybe.” He yawns again. “Maybe I’ll talk to her on Monday. You knew, didn’t you? You knew I was self-harming. Papa was surprised but you weren’t.”

“Yes, sweetheart, I guessed you were. There were too many clues around.”

“Are you angry with me?”

“No. I love you, and I want to help you.” She’s angry at the bully and his parents. She wonders what hell they must be raising the child in if he feels the need to hurt other children, because there must be something wrong. She needs to know, needs this behavior to be justified somehow. She hasn’t meant the child, so she’s not had the chance to read his emotions. 

*

“Why don’t we just hide all of the sharp things?” Sammy asks, when he and Annella lie in bed.

“Because if he is not ready to stop, he will still find a way of doing it.”

“Did you know?” 

“I knew,” she replies. “I noticed scratches on his arms and I knew they were self-inflicted. I found little blood stains on his shirts, and bloodied tissues in the bathroom.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I wanted Elio to have the chance to come to us. Believe me, darling, if it went on for much longer I would’ve asked him.”

“This is my fault. We never should’ve moved here.”

“But we did,” says Annella. “Blame is a useless game.”

*

Elio throws up.

He’s been throwing up a lot lately, and maybe it’s stress and anxiety. He tries not to think about the look in Papa’s eyes after telling them he wanted help because he was struggling with self harm and wasn’t sure if he felt ready to stop yet. He knows his parents see him as a miracle. He remembers asking Mamma if he could have a baby brother or baby sister for his 6th birthday, and Mamma telling him that he had four older siblings up in heaven because the world wasn’t right for them. When he was older he found out that they were miscarriages, and he’d been their last try.

He knows Papa is disappointed in him, because they’ve spent all this money on sending him to this top school and he’s failing and fucking up. 

Elio flushes the toilet and washes his face. He takes his razor blades and hides them in his wallet. He puts his wallet under his pillow and falls asleep. For the first time in three months, he sleeps through the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are struggling with self-harm, help is out there. I struggled with self-harm for 12 years, and I've been clean for 4. Getting to this point took 3 years of therapy and a lot of relapses. I wish I'd asked for help sooner, but I was too scared and ashamed. There is nothing to be ashamed of - it's a way of dealing with unbearable pain.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elio has a therapy session and Oliver realises he likes Elio when he watches Elio play the piano. 
> 
> Oh. And Oliver asks Elio out on a date, but Elio’s a bit to naïve to actually realise this.

Can you tell me what led you to start self-harming?” asks the therapist, who tells Elio to call him Armie. What kind of name is that? Armie Hammer. His father says that he’d been recommended to him by a colleague, although he promised Elio that he gave no details of why he was enquiring after a therapist. 

Armie looks more like a surfer than a therapist, although he’s well qualified and experienced, having studied at Harvard.

Elio folds his arms. “I don’t know,” he lies. 

“How does self-harming make you feel afterwards?” asks Armie.

Elio shrugs.

“Elio, I’m here to help you,” says Armie. “But I can’t help you if you don’t tell me a little bit about what’s happening right now. Your parents mentioned that you’ve been bullied at your new school, and that they think you might have found moving to the US from Italy a little difficult. Can you tell me a bit about what's been going on?"

Elio sinks a little deeper into the couch, and chews on his nails. He spots Armie's certificates on the wall, and scans his bookshelves. What kind of person chooses to be a therapist? Something must be wrong with this Armie. 

“Will you lock me up?” Elio asks. 

“Pardon?”

“In a hospital. Will you lock me up in a hospital?” 

“I’ll only do that if I think it’s the safest thing to do for you,” says Armie. “I don’t “lock” many of my patients up.”

Elio scratches the back of his head and stares at a coffee stain on the coffee table.

“Take your time,” says Armie. “We go at your pace.” 

Armie's voice is warm and soothing. He sits on the couch across from Elio, one arm slung on the top, his other arm resting on the arm. He twirls a black ballpoint pen with his hand. Elio relaxes. Armie makes him feel safe. He's got no connection to the school like Anna has, and his office smells of lavender. This reminds Elio of long, slow summers at the villa and the laundry detergent Mafalda uses. He’s craving Italy. It won’t be long until they fly home for Hunnakah.

“OK,” says Elio. He describes to Armie the way he felt when they moved to America, how he misses his friends, how ashamed he is that he lies to them about making friends and how he hates his parents for making him move here. “I don’t know why I started self-harming though. I just...I just did it once, and it felt good. I know that sounds bad.”

“It serves a function for you,” says Armie. 

“Yes! I feel better after I do it, but then I feel ashamed, too.”

“Do you think you’ll self-harm again?”

“I don’t know how else to cope,” says Elio. 

“Don’t worry. I’m not expecting you to stop. I’m working out how to help you. I need to ask you one more question, Elio. Do you have any thoughts of ending your life?”

Elio nods.

“OK. Do you have any plans to end your life?”

Elio shakes his head.

“Thanks for sharing all of that with me, Elio. I appreciate that it must be difficult for you because you’ve only just met me. I can help you, but therapy isn’t meant to be easy. It’s not like surgery. The work has to come from you, OK?”

Elio nods.

Armie extends an arm to shake Elio’s hand. "It's been a pleasure meeting you, kiddo."

“You won’t share any of this with my parents, will you?” Elio asks. 

“No. The only time I will break confidentiality is if you tell me you are going to end your life. This session stays between us.” 

"Thank you."

Annella is waiting for him in the reception area. "How was it, darling?"

"It was good. I'm hungry, mamma. What's for dinner?"

*

Oliver watches Elio play the piano and marvels, because he looks so serene and his fingers dance across the keys effortlessly yet with passion. 

"Who were you playing?" he asks.

Elio snaps his head around and his eyes widen.

_ Is he scared of me _ ? Oliver thinks.

"Was it, um, Beethoven? Bach?" 

"No," says Elio, staring at the piano. "It was something I composed."

"You  _ composed _ that?” 

"Yeah," says Elio. "I mean, it's not finished yet, really."

"OK, but it's still really good."

"Hm, I don't know."

Oliver pulls up a chair and sits next to Elio. He wants to share the stool with Elio, but he doesn’t want to push any boundaries.

Oliver’s been thinking a lot about what it would be like to kiss Elio, too. He’s never had a girlfriend, and he always thought it was because there was something wrong with him. Turns out the reason is he's gay, and while he'd like to murder Nate for hurting Elio, Nate also helped him realise this.

"I mean, I thought it was Beethoven," Oliver says. "That's how good I thought it was."

"No offence, but do you even know anything about classical music?" 

"Um, no," Olive admits. Damn, Elio is pretentious. And judgemental. Can’t he take a compliment?

“I thought not.” 

Oliver wonders if he should leave Elio alone. He doesn’t seem to want the company and he’s being rude. Oliver would be the same if Elio had stood there while Nate kicked him, not saying or doing anything until Nate left. Oliver knows he’s a coward. 

"Why did you come in here anyway?" asks Elio. 

"I wanted to see if you were OK, and if you maybe wanted to go get lunch,” says Oliver. 

"Really?"

Oliver nods. 

"I...no one's ever...I'm not hungry, but thanks," Elio says, his cheeks going red.

_ Oh God. He's cute _ . 

“Unless you’re doing this out of pity,” says Elio. “Because that would make you a jerk.”

“I want to hang out with you. I don’t feel sorry for you.” He does feel sorry for Elio, because who wouldn’t be? But he also wants to make friends with this musical genius from Italy. "You know, now Nate’s off the basketball team, there's a space. They’ll have tryouts next week."

"I really don't, I mean, this takes up all my time," says Elio, gesturing to the piano. 

"Yeah? You gonna go to Juilliard or something?" Oliver nudges Elio, grinning.

"I thought about it, but then Papa made us move to America and I don't want to stay here longer than I have to," Elio says. 

"You miss Italy."

"Of course I do! I have friends at home. I don’t have to go to a school where I'm bullied. Why does he hurt me, Oliver? Why?" Elio bursts into tears. 

Oliver’s heart crashes against his chest. He opens his mouth twice. Elio is hunched over, crying loudly and gasping for breath. He says something, but Oliver can't work out if he didn’t understand because it was in Italian or because Elio's voice was so high pitched that only dogs could hear him.

Oliver puts a hand on Elio’s shoulder, and he winces. What the hell is he meant to do? He's not a therapist.

"Do you wanna go and talk it out with the guidance counsellor?" says Oliver.

Elio nods. He’s a mess. His lips are swollen, his eyes puffy, the tears leaving a streak down his cheeks like a snail trail. 

"Sorry," he puffs out. "I...it was my birthday a couple of weeks ago and we were meant to go back to Italy for the Thanksgiving break but we didn’t because Mamma and Papa said I needed to see a therapist and spend more time settling in and -"

"Woah, woah," says Oliver. "It's OK. I'm sure Anna can offer you a cup of tea? That's what my mom does when people are upset."

Elio wipes his eyes on his blazer. "Thanks, by the way, for sticking up for me. I know that's how you broke your nose."

*

"I think I've made a friend," Elio tells his mother when he gets home from school. Oliver's asked Elio to hang out tomorrow after school, and wants to go to this pizza place downtown that he likes. 

"I promise its proper pizza," Oliver had said. "And then, like, maybe we could go bowling? It's kinda sad you didn't celebrate your 16th."

"Oh, my parents took me out so it wasn't all bad," Elio said.

"You're close to your mom and dad, aren't you?"

"Yeah. I mean, we talk about everything. I know most kids our age hate their parents but I think I'd be dead without mine."

Annella smiles as Elio recounts the conversation he had with Oliver. "Today is the first time I've seen you really smile for weeks, darling."

*

"Sit down, Nate," says Anna. "Is everything OK at home?" 

"It's fine," says Nate. He rubs his arm. It's still sore after his father pushed him on the floor. 

"Your basketball coach said he noticed you have a bruise on your arm."

"I'm fine," Nate repeats. "I'm really fine."

*


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of Nate's past is revealed.  
> Also, Elio goes out with Oliver - is it actually a date? Elio doesn't really know yet if he's gay or bi or straight or somewhere in between.

Nate picks Elio because he’s the new kid who's moved to the US from Italy and Nate needs a new target. 

He overhears Elio talk about his parents like he worships them. Elio’s a total mommy's boy. Nate works that out by scrolling through Elio’s Instagram. Few other kids their age post anything about their parents on Instagram the way Elio does.

Elio has so many weak spots and he’s easy to hurt.

So he sets up the fake Instagram account, manages to get hold of Elio’s number and texts him the links. He doesn’t tag Elio in the photos, doesn’t tag the school either, because he’s not stupid. He knows Elio’s not straight, too, because Elio’s so emotional and feminine and everything boys shouldn’t be, according to his father. Elio’s everything Nate wishes his father allowed him to be. 

“The account has been reported to Instagram and since been taken down,” the principal informs Nate.

“Yes, sir. They banned me from Instagram.”

“Do you realise how serious it is, telling someone online to kill themselves? If Elio made an attempt, or God forbid, actually died from suicide, you would’ve broken the law.”

Oh, shit. Nate did not know that. 

“It’s just words. I never meant it.”

“Telling people that they should kill themselves is never just words.”

Nate sees the fear in Elio’s hazel-green eyes when he kicks him. He's drunk on adrenaline once he starts, and the other jocks cheer and laugh as they watch because they're scared of not supporting him. At school Nate is worshiped. 

This is what it's like for Nate at home; he tiptoes around his father, waiting for the next punch to be thrown at him, cowering in his wardrobe praying that he'll drink until he passes out. His mother never spends time at home, and Nate knows she’s having an affair with some guy at her office because he heard his parents having a screaming match about it. 

When Nate pushes Elio’s head into the toilet bowl, his body trembles. What if he goes too far one day and kills him? It's easier to drown someone than it is to drown yourself.

Nate just wants someone to listen. He wants to tell someone that his father pushed his head in the toilet bowl, and did it again and again until he was satisfied that Nate was humiliated enough and until Nate believed he was going to kill him. His father threatened to harm him if Nate said anything about it at school, so when Mr Schmidt is informed that Nate is bullying this new kid, his father yells and throws an empty whisky bottle at him.

"How did you get the bruise on your arm?" asks Anna. "It's not the first time someone has noticed unexplained marks on your body, Nate."

He spends his breaks and lunches in the principal’s office, or with the guidance counselor, Anna, now. He’s been kicked off the basketball team, which is all Elio’s fault, and his father’s fault. His father tells him he’s not going to go to college now because his grades are rubbish and his extra curricular activities taken away from him.

"I fell over," Nate replies. 

"You fell over?"

"Yes."

"If someone's hurting you, you know, you can say something. You won't get in trouble."

_ Yes I will _ , Nate thinks.

"I'm clumsy," says Nate.

"Do you understand why you're being disciplined?" 

"I was bullying Elio."

*

Elio picks out a pair of Levi jeans and a pink striped shirt for his evening with Oliver. He’s nauseous. Oliver said that it would only be the two of them tonight and when Elio mentioned it to his friends in the group chat, Marzia and Chiara were convinced it's a date. The idea is madness, because Elio’s not gay, is he? Yeah, he got a boner once in gym because of Oliver, but anything could have triggered that. He’s a teenager. Maybe he’s bi, because he had a crush on Marzia once, although he now sees her as a sister and it freaks him out that he was ever attracted to her. 

**_ELIO_ ** a date? He’s straight.

**_MARZIA_ ** Do you know that he’s straight?

**_ELIO_ ** he's a jock. 

**_ELIO_ ** anyway I don't want to go on a date with him.

**_CHIARA_ ** yes, you do. You've been talking about Oliver so much you're like obsessed with him!

**_ELIO_ ** fuck off both of you 😑

Elio takes a shower. The soap stings the cuts on his arms and on the top of his thighs. He gets changed for gym in the bathrooms now. If this is a date, he’s sure that Oliver wouldn't want to go on a date with some kid who hates himself so much he makes himself bleed because that's easier to deal with than everything else. He needs to hide the cuts.

Elio takes a deep breath and notices the familiar tingling in his lips and tightness in his chest. He checks his watch. It's 6pm, and he’s got half an hour before he's meeting Oliver. His stomach does a somersault.

*

"Pizza's on me," says Oliver, when they sit down. "My parents just gave me my allowance, and anyway this is like a belated happy 16th. And I promise this place does proper Italian stuff. The owner's Italian."

“Thanks,” says Elio. His armpits are damp; what if the deodorant he put on doesn’t work and he starts to smell?

"Shall we get a plate of garlic bread to share?" Oliver asks. Oliver looks so handsome. He’s wearing a pale blue shirt which brings out the color of his eyes. Elio’s never seen him in anything but sports gear.

"I guess. I'm not that hungry." Elio fiddles with his sleeve. “Can I ask you something, Oliver?” 

Oliver nods.

“Is this a date?”

“Do you want it to be one?”

Elio freezes. Oliver’s gone red, and Elio worries that he’s taken too long to answer the question. 

“I mean, I’m, like, interested in you,” says Oliver. “But we hardly know each other. I don’t even know if I’m gay.”

“Oh?”

“Wait, that’s bullshit. Of course I’m gay. I’m so gay! Oh, my God. Do you know how good it feels to say that out loud?” 

“I don’t know what I am,” says Elio. “Have you not come out before? What would Nate say?”

Oliver stares at a spot on the red gingham tablecloth. “Nate’s a goddamn asshole.”

“He wouldn’t say that about himself.”

“No. He fucking worships himself. I hate that dude. Let’s not talk about him. Oh, and don’t say anything about me being gay, unless you want your ass kicked. 

“I’m not a jerk,” says Elio. “Are you going to tell your parents?”

“I don’t know,” Oliver replies. “They think I’ve gone out with some girl in my Spanish class.”

“So this  _ is  _ a date,” says Elio. “And I haven’t figured out if I’m gay or not yet.”

“My parents are really homophobic,” says Oliver. “They’re really old fashioned. I think Dad would try to exorcise me.

“Wow.” Elio knows that he’s lucky because he doesn’t fear having to tell his parents once he’s figured out. He could even ask his parents for advice about figuring the whole thing out and they would help him, not judge him. 

“By the way, my gaydar goes off the charts when I’m with you,” says Oliver. “I’m not saying it’s accurate, though.”

“Oh,” says Elio. He wishes they were having this conversation at his house, rather than in the middle of a restaurant which is busy and loud. It feels like everyone is listening to them, and there’s too many people, and Elio worries that he’ll have a panic attack. He tries to ground himself like Armie’s taught him. Something you can smell (pizza), touch (the menu, Oliver’s knee - accidentally, of course), feel (the table, the sweat on his back), taste (the soda he’s drinking). Elio picks up the menu and starts to scan it. 

“Ha! Pepperoni on pizza? Cheap cheddar? God, that’s not very Italian. Give me prosciutto and mozzarella!”

Oliver laughs.

Elio notices a warm feeling in his stomach and allows it to rise up his chest. Oliver’s laugh is better than any symphony by Beethoven, and Elio feels safe with Oliver. 

*

NATE  _ Jack said he saw you out with the faggot tonight. _

NATE  _ What the fuck? Were you on a date with him? _

NATE  _ you’re a fucking faggot.  _

Oliver deletes Nate’s messages and blocks his number.

*

Elio goes to the restroom. Nate is standing in the corner, his arms folded. 

“You’re a fucking disease,” says Nate. He pushes Elio to the floor, kicks him in the stomach, and walks off. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> does anyone else just want to lie on the floor right now and scream ?? for no reason?? or is that just me??   
> oh well. i am so excited for the dune trailer on sept 9th. i've loved that book for years and re-read it recently (i've re-read so many books this year it's a comfort thing) and covid better not delay this movie i swear to god this year has been so awful and also hell for my family and me so dear whatever spirits are out there let me have dune in 2020 (if it's safe)  
> my cinema just opened again too!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get dark again.   
> TW self harm. Elio goes to the ER.

Elio locks himself in a stall, uses the bathroom and sinks to the floor. He doesn’t want to be here anymore and wonders what the point is to everything. He misses Italy. He doesn’t want to go back to Italy for the holidays in a week, because he knows he won’t want to come back here. He could ask his parents if he could live with Mafalda for the rest of the school year, and go back to his old school with his friends. But he can’t imagine spending all of those months without his mother. Nate’s right, he is a momma's boy. He’s 16 now. He needs to grow up.

He’s a disease.

Elio thinks about texting Oliver, like he told Elio to do if something happens, and he thinks about the friendship they've developed. Oliver trusted him enough to tell Elio he's gay, trusted him enough to be the first person he came out to. But Elio doesn't text him because he doesn’t want Oliver to get hurt again. Nate’s already broken his nose.

Elio thinks about taking his life. It's not the first time he's thought about it. Right now he can’t see any other way out even though he doesn't want to die. He just wants the pain to stop, he wants to be away from school and life for a few days until he feels safe. 

Elio takes out his phone and Googles suicide methods, scrolls through but doesn’t click on any links. There’s no painless way to end things. No easy way out.

He should be in Biology right now. Oliver texted him to ask him where he is and reminds him he’ll get detention for being late. Elio ignores the text. He pulls himself up and heads to the nurse’s office.

"I threw up. Can I ask my mamma to come and get me?" Elio asks the nurse. 

"You look fine," she replies. "Why don't you go back to class and see how you feel?"

"No. I need my mamma."

She feels his forehead. “No fever. You should really go back to class.”

“I’m going to call her myself, then,” says Elio. He leaves the nurse’s office and lets his legs take him to Anna’s.

“Elio? You’re meant to be in class,” says Anna.

“I...I...he…”

“Did something happen?” 

Elio nods.

Anna invites him into her office and tells him to sit. She sits behind her desk and pushes her glasses up her nose. “What happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” says Elio. “I just want to go home. I don’t feel very well.”

“You can’t just go home every time something happens. I’ll speak to Nate.”

Elio slams his fist on the desk, his whole body shaking, his jaw and fists clenched. Tears gather in the corner of his eyes and spill down his face.

“I...I want to go home,” he whimpers. “Please. I just...he pushed me, in the restroom, and he told me I was sick. I don’t know what he was talking about. I think...I think I’m gay. Or bi. But no one knows that. I don’t know what...I just…I...want mamma!”

Anna offers him the box of tissues. “I can see you’re too distressed to go back to class. We’ll need to speak to Mr Guadagnino about what’s happened, OK? Try and take some deep breaths. I’ll call your mom and we’ll have a chat.”

*

Annella sprints out of her office and tells her assistant to cancel her last two appointments with her clients.

“Why?”

“Tell them it’s a family emergency,” she says. “They won’t be charged. I’ll rearrange. Sorry. I need to get to Elio.”

Annella lets her husband know that she’s got to rush to the school because she’s had a call from the counselor. “No idea what’s happened,” she says. “But she said Elio’s very upset.”

Annella wants to punch Nate. She wants to twist his neck and tell him to stop hurting her baby. She doesn’t think she’s ever been so angry before. She slams her foot on the pedal and drives to the school.

Elio’s sitting in the corner of the office when Annella arrives. He’s crouching on the floor, his hands over his ears, rocking back and forth, and Annella feels her heart snap in half. Anna is sitting beside him, trying to offer him a cup of tea.

“Sweetheart,” she crouches down next to him, sweeps a stray curl away from his forehead and wipes his tears with her thumbs. “I’m here now.”

*

“This punishment is not working,” she says to Mr Guadagnino in hasty Italian. “Why is this child still hurting my son? What more are you going to do?”

The principal puts his head in his hands. “I need to have another meeting with the parents. Please, Mrs Perlman, be assured that we are taking this very seriously. The student involved will be escorted to and from his classes and his detentions will be increased.”

“None of this will make Elio better,” she says, dabbing her eyes with a tissue.

“I understand his mental health is suffering.”

“Of course it is. He will need a couple of days at home. He is so tired.”

“You must do what you think is best, but I would warn against keeping him off for too long,” says the Principal.

“Two days,” says Annella. “He’ll be back on Tuesday.”

Annella wants to mention that she’s considering taking Elio out of school and finding a different one, but she holds her tongue because she hasn’t spoken to Samuel about it yet.

*

Elio slams his bedroom door and locks it. His chest is heaving as he tries to catch his breath. The prickling sensation spreads from his lips to his jaw and his cheeks. Elio tries to open his mouth to breathe. He can’t. He worries that he’s going mad; his bedroom starts spinning. 

His phone vibrates in his pocket and it grounds him for a brief moment. 

**_OLIVER_ ** are you ok? 

Elio throws his phone on his bed. 

“Elio, darling?” his mother is knocking on his door.

“Go away!” he shouts. “Just leave me alone.”

“I’ve arranged an emergency session with your therapist,” she says.

“I won’t go!” says Elio. He picks up a book and throws it at the door. “Fuck. I’m going mad.”

His phone vibrates again and Elio checks it. Marzia wants to know how last night went, if he’s admitted to himself that he’s not straight yet and if he’s come out to anyone else, and did Oliver confirm that it was a date?   
Elio’s not figured out what he is yet and if he is gay he won’t be coming out.

He turns his phone off and locks himself in the bathroom, finds his razor blades, and cuts. At that moment, it is the only thing that matters. Elio’s exhale is long and deep, like he’s been holding his breath until he got the blade out. He finds his first aid kit which his mother put together for him and starts to clean the wound. 

The wound’s quite deep. Deeper than Elio intended. Blood spurts out of it and turns the water pink. Elio panics. He tries to stop the bleeding by applying pressure to it, like Papa showed him. Papa had insisted that Elio learn basic first aid if he’s going to continue to self-harm. 

The blood soaks through the gauze. Elio applies another piece of gauze to the wound and ties it. 

“Mamma? J'ai besoin d'aide.”

“What did you do?” Annella asks, eyes wide, looking at the gauze on Elio’s arm.

“I cut myself badly,” he replies. 

“Oh, darling. Let’s wrap some more around it. It’s bled right through.”

“I’ve got two pieces of gauze on it and it won’t stop!”

“Alright, sweetheart. Let’s try another bit with some more pressure, OK?”

“OK.”

Elio lets his mother take over. She speaks to him with such tenderness and gentleness, like he’s a small child again, and she’s cleaning him up after he’s fallen over while running around in the grounds of the villa. She’d always sit him on the worktop and clean his knee up and rub his nose.

After ten minutes, the wound is still bleeding.

“I think this needs to be checked by a doctor,” she says. “You might need stitches.”

“I won’t go to the hospital.”

“We are going. Come on.”

When they arrive at the emergency room, Elio sees Nate sitting with a woman he assumes is his mother. His lip is bleeding, he's got a black eye and he’s holding his left arm close to his chest. 

Elio hides behind his mother. He doesn’t need Nate to see his injury. It's obvious it's self-harm.

"What is it?" Annella asks, noticing the look on Elio’s face.

"Nothing."

*

The doctor glues Elio's wound together. "Can you tell me how you're feeling?" she says. "Your mom told the nurse you harmed yourself."

"I'm seeing a therapist," Elio says. "So I'm getting help. I just went too deep. I didn't mean to."

"When did you start self-harming?" 

"I don't know," says Elio. "I want to go home."

"Elio, are you thinking of ending your life?"

"No," he says. He suddenly feels sick, his mouth starts filling with saliva, salty and warm, and he swallows. He vomits down himself, on his shoes and the floor.

*

"This is your third stomach bug in three months," says Annella. "You’re probably so stressed and run down."

It's 3am and Elio is sitting on the bathroom floor, head bent over the toilet seat. Annella’s hand is on his back, rubbing it in soothing circles. There’s grey and purple bags under her eyes. She's not slept properly in weeks.

"I don't want to go back to that school," says Elio.

"You won't go tomorrow," says Annella. "Or this morning, I mean. Not when you’re vomiting."

"No. I mean never."

"You will once you're better."

Annella waits for Elio to fall asleep before she takes herself back to bed. Sammy is sitting up in bed reading a paperback. 

"You're awake."

"I couldn’t sleep," he says. "I'm worried about him. How is he?"

"He’s fallen asleep," says Annella. "I'm worried, too. But he's only just started seeing his therapist."

Sammy sighs and puts his book down, takes his glasses off and lies down. 

"I think we should find a different school for him," Annella says.

"But it's the best school in Cambridge!" 

"He isn't benefiting from it, though."

"It's not the right time of day for this conversation," Sammy says. "He's got one week left until winter break."

*

**_OLIVER_ ** Nate says he saw you at the ER last night

**_OLIVER_ ** he said you were there because you cut yourself

**_OLIVER_ ** are u ok? 

**_OLIVER_ ** im worried about u

**_OLIVER_ ** u can always talk to me

**_OLIVER_ ** i heard what he said to you. i punched him but i wanted to kill him.

So that's why Nate was in the ER, Elio thinks. Did Oliver break Nate’s arm, too?


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i planned on posting this yesterday but alas! i didn't get the chance to finish editing it bc work! adulting! poorly guinea pig! vet trips! VET BILLS! (he's fine now btw)  
> also i promise things will get much better from now on.

"Your mom's worried about you," says Armie. "She said she had to rush you to the ER because you'd cut yourself quite badly."

"Yes."

"What happened?"

"He bullied me again," says Elio. "He told me I was diseased. I don’t know what he meant by that. I...we had a...I might be gay."

"But he’s used homophobic language before,” Armie points out. 

“Yeah.”

“Elio, do you think we can talk about some self-harm alternatives? I’d like to talk about other, less risky things you can do when you feel that you need to harm yourself.”

“I guess,” says Elio, shrugging. He doesn’t want to stop self-harming. Why should he? He deserves the punishment, no matter what Armie or his parents tell him. He’s trying to find a way to get out of school tomorrow. He’d lied to Oliver when replying to his text; of course he’d not self-harmed, Nate’s spreading rumours and exaggerating the wound and he’d accidentally cut himself chopping up vegetables. He knew Oliver had seen right through it, but Oliver got the point and didn't ask Elio about it again.

Armie helps Elio put a list together of things he can do other than self-harm: scribble on paper, scream into a pillow, hold ice cubes in his hands, draw on the part of his body he wants to hurt, do some exercise. Elio isn’t going to try any of it.

“Now the one that you might find most useful when you’re looking for a similar sensation is the ice cube one,” says Armie. “Doing intense exercise would also be really good, because it releases the happy hormones. Before we finish today, are you feeling suicidal?”

Elio nods.

“Any plans to end your life?” 

Elio shakes his head. He’s tempted one day to nod, just to see Armie’s reaction and to see what he’d do. His suicidal thoughts might be taken seriously, then. 

*

“I won’t go to school tomorrow,” says Elio that evening over dinner. “I don’t feel well enough still.”

“You have just four days left of the semester,” his father replies. “Just four, and then it’s the winter break and we’re going home to Italy for a few weeks. You can get through four days.”

“No I fucking can’t!” Elio yells.

“Elio, tesoro -” Annella says.

“I’m serious! I won’t go to that fucking school anymore. I hate it there, and I hate this stupid fucking country!” Elio slams his fist on the dinner table.

“Please watch your language,” says Sammy. “I know you’re angry, but you can use better words than swear words.”

“I don’t give a fucking shit,” says Elio, leaving the table without excusing himself. “I’m not fucking 5. I’ll use whatever fucking words I fucking want.”

*

“Why do you cut yourself?” says Nate, smirking, the next morning during homeroom. His tone is patronising.

“Shut up,” Elio mutters. The principal had promised Elio’s parents (and Elio) that Nate would be removed from homeroom, maybe even change the class he’s in. It’s the only way Nate now has access to Elio; Elio’s changed his number and deleted all of his social media following the cyberbullying. He’d felt cut off from the world for the first couple of days, but he doesn’t miss it now.

“What?” Nate asks.

“I said shut up.”

“You dare talk to me like that?”

“I guess I do,” says Elio, his muscles tensing and his heart rate increasing. 

“Nate!” says Oliver. “Leave Elio alone.”

“Stay out of it,” snaps Elio. Oliver opens his mouth and stares at Elio.  _ I don’t want you to get hurt _ , he thinks.  _ I want you to stay out of trouble and stop sticking up for me. _

“Oooh, sticking up for your boyfriend are we? Did you know he self-harms like a fucking girl? Are we even sure he’s a dude?”

Elio’s face grows hot and flushed. The whole class is quiet, staring at Elio and at Nate, not daring to make a sound.

“That’s right, isn’t it?” Nate says. “You cut your wrists. Why do you do it, eh? Because you want attention? Because you are weak? Pathetic? All those things?”

“Stop it,” says Elio. 

Nate seizes Elio and tugs the sleeve of Elio’s sweater down to his elbow, revealing to the class the mess of his wrists. People gasp, and the class breaks out into chatter. Elio wonders if he’s going to throw up. He feels exposed, like the dreams he’s had where he’s turned up to school completely naked. But right now he’s awake, and he’s at school, and now the whole class knows he self-harms. Oliver knows he self-harms. He’s not sure if he can ever speak to him again.

“Let him go,” says Oliver.

“Boys!” Mr Murphy comes into the classroom. “Nate, let go of Elio. Go to the principal’s office. Now.”

“Next time you go and cut yourself,” says Nate. “You should just cut your fucking neck so that you die.” Nate mimics cutting his head off, sticks out his tongue and closes his eyes. 

“Principal’s office. Now.” Mr Murphy raises his tone and Elio’s never heard him speak like that before. 

Nate spits in Elio’s face and something in Elio snaps. The anger and pain that’s been simmering reaches boiling point. He screams and punches Nate in the face. He hears a crack and a yell. 

“Both of you are going to the principal’s office,” says Mr Murphy. “Nate, go and see the nurse first. Go, now.”

“But Elio can’t get in trouble, sir. Nate’s bullying him!” says Oliver. 

*

Elio stares at his shoes. He replays the moment Nate showed the whole class his self-harm cuts and scars, and rubs his eyes on his sweater. 

“I know things have been difficult,” says Mr Guadagnino. “I know, Elio. Nate has been bullying you and perhaps we did not do enough. No, we didn’t do enough. But punching him is unacceptable. He has a bruised eye. What happened?”

“He humiliated me,” says Elio. “He...he....I’m sorry. I lost it. He humiliated me and I lost it.”

“How did he humiliate you?”

“He pulled down my sweater and showed everyone my self-harm.”

*

“I demand you do something, Luca!” cries Annella. “It’s going too far.”

“I assure you things are being done,” Luca says.

“The child was going to be removed from homeroom,” Sammy says. He takes Annella’s hand in his and caresses it, steadies it, warms it. “I expect immediate actions to be taken and given to us in writing, with a date of when we can expect them to happen.”

“The child has been removed from homeroom, and he is now suspended,” says Luca. “He will not be back until after the winter break.”

“Neither will Elio,” says Sammy. “We’re taking an earlier flight to Milan so that Elio can get some time to heal.”

“We don’t even know if we will send him back here,” Annella says. “He’s not settled.” She grips her husband’s hand. She wishes she could protect her child from all the pain he’s experiencing, wishes she could take it all away. It aches to watch him struggle to eat. There’s a piano in their rented house that’s been gathering dust for the last month, a guitar that’s not been tuned for two months, and Elio refuses to join their dinner parties. 

“We need to make some important decisions over the break,” Sammy continues. 

As they drive home, Sammy turns to his wife. “We have to send Elio back after the holidays. We can’t move him to another school for two semesters. That’ll really unsettle him.”

“Maybe he should go back to his school in Milan,” says Annella. 

“My year at Harvard doesn’t finish until the end of the academic year.”

“No, but Elio and I could stay in Milan. My work is finished here.”

“Let’s not decide anything now, and please don’t say anything to Elio about this.”

Annella’s already talked about it with Elio, at 2am when he’d woken up screaming from a nightmare. 

*

“Suspended?” Mr Schmidt roars. “Do you know how embarrassing this is for me? I’m on the god-damned board, kid. And you let a weak thing like that kid punch you? Well, I can make that bruise bigger, and I will.”

“Please don’t,” pleads Nate, cowering. His father smells of whisky and cigarettes.

Nate falls and lands on the floor before he blacks out, just as his mother walks through the front door.

“Nate!” she goes to him, looks up at the man she once thought she was in love with. “It’s over. Nate’s going to come and live with me.”

*

Elio’s got several missed calls from Oliver, a WhatsApp voice message and texts.

**OLIVER** just let me know you’re okay

Hoping that this will mean Oliver will leave him alone, Elio replies that he’s fine.

**ELIO** i don’t want to talk about it though

If Oliver replies that he doesn’t want to be friends anymore or go on anymore dates, Elio won’t be surprised. 

He hates himself for messing this up before their friendship began properly.

**OLIVER** okay but if you want to talk one day you can. I’m here for you.

**OLIVER** i dont judge you for self harm

**ELIO** i’m going back to italy for christmas in two days

He starts typing;  _ i might be changing schools _ but deletes it.

*

Elio falls asleep on the couch in the living room of the villa, as the fire crackles and dances. Annella strokes his hair and smiles. His features are soft, his jaw unclenched.

“He’s lost weight,” Mafalda comments. 

“I don’t think he likes America,” says Annella. “Even though he’s half American!”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also dune trailer omg i am so hyped for this movie it looks so good wtffff


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> elio gets drunk, properly, for the first time in his life and learns that hangovers are hell. also , he realizes something about Oliver

"Elio!" Marzia says, throwing her arms around him and kissing the crown of his head. "Oh, my God, I missed you." 

"I missed you too," he says, kissing her on both cheeks. He thinks he is going to burst into tears. He’s home. He hugs Chiara, kissing her on each cheek, and beams.

"You're sad," says Chiara.

"What?" 

"You're sad. You look tired," says Chiara. “I can see it in your eyes. Are you OK?”

"I...I...there's coffee in the pot," he says. Elio pokes at the fireplace when someone starts rubbing his shoulders. He’s forgotten how easily Marzia and Chiara can read him. Marzia’s told him how bad a liar he is, and that’s why he’s relied on texting over the last few months, using the time difference as an excuse not to call. They’ve all grown up with each other, and they are like the sisters he never had.

"Are you not enjoying America?" asks Marzia. 

Elio shakes his head.

“How are things, really?” Chiara says, sitting next him on the couch and putting her hand in his. 

“You’re not my therapist,” says Elio. “Oh, yeah. I have a therapist now.” He chuckles and stares at his shoes. His next therapy appointment is a month away, but he could do with talking to Armie right now. “It’s, like, the thing in America. I don’t know. Everyone who can afford it seems to have a therapist.”

“I don’t think your parents would send you to a therapist just for the sake of it,” says Marzia. 

“Look, school sucks but I don’t want to talk about it,” says Elio. “It’s none of your business why I’m seeing a fucking therapist. I hate America, I hate that stupid school, and I can’t wait until we move back to Italy in the summer.”

“I - sorry,” Marzia says. “But you know you can talk to us?”

“Yeah. No pity party though, please.” Elio pulls his sweater sleeves over his hands. The fabric rubs against the cut he made on his arm last night, and he resists the temptation to itch it and make it bleed.

“My parents are out and won’t be back till midnight,” says Marzia. “And they just restocked the wine cellar. Let’s go and get drunk.”

“Best idea anyone’s had in months,” says Elio. 

Elio downs the wine without tasting it. Usually, he’s allowed a glass or two of wine with dinner, and has done since he was 7 or 8. But he’s not had anything to eat today, and once he starts drinking, he feels unable to stop. 

Marzia puts music on. She chooses Fleetwood Mac. She digs around in the kitchen cupboards for snacks. Chiara lights a cigarette and offers one to Elio.

“Nah, smoking’s gross,” he says. 

“So why do you hate school so much?” asks Chiara. She takes a long drag of her cigarette and swirls the wine in her glass.

“There’s this kid who’s an idiot,” says Elio. “A fucking idiot. But I’m also weak and pathetic.”

“What do you mean?” Marzia asks. 

“I mean he’s been beating me up. Created a fake Instagram account. Made my life hell. And I didn’t, I couldn’t fucking stop it. I’ve got no friends. I’m a loser! I hate myself so much.”

Mariza pauses the music. “I’m sorry. You’re not pathetic, that other kid’s the pathetic one. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I did,” he says. “I told my parents, and they told the school, and that just made everything fucking worse!”

He fills his glass up. He’s not sure how much he’s had to drink, but his vision starts to blur and his ears are buzzing. “That’s why I’m seeing a therapist,” he says, slurring his words. He almost rolls up his sweater sleeves to show them why he’s so pathetic, but a tiny part of his brain that’s not swimming in alcohol stops him doing so. He wanted the alcohol to make him forget but all it’s done is make his pain louder. Elio closes his eyes and takes a deep breath; his vision starts to spin. 

“That’s really shit,” Chiara says. 

“Yeah.”

“I don’t think you should drink anymore,” says Marzia. “You’re swaying on that bar stool.”

“I’m fine,” Elio says. “Look!” he slides off the chair, puts Fleetwood Mac back on and tries singing to  _ Dreams _ , but he can’t remember all the words and the floor underneath him is spinning. He drinks the rest of his wine.

“We’ve gone through five bottles of wine,” says Mariza. “Five! There’s only three of us!”

“I’ll get him a glass of water,” says Chiara. “Here, Elio, give me your wine glass.”

“Noooo!”

“I’m going to top it up for you,” says Chiara. She gets him a glass of water. “Drink.”

“Tha’s not wine,” says Elio, stumbling over his own feet. “That’s -”

He projectile vomits on the floor, the counter, the worktop, painting the kitchen a deep red. 

“Fuck,” says Chiara.

“Elio! Throw up in the toilet, please! Oh, my God. You need to clean this up before my parents get home. They’re going to be mad!”

Elio pukes into his hands. “I want mamma.”

"America’s changed you," says Marzia. 

"Yeah. It's made me realise how much I hate myself," he says.

“I’ll call Mrs Perlman,” says Chiara, as Marzia directs Elio to the bathroom. 

Elio leans over the toilet, crying as he pukes.

*

"Mamma!" Elio shouts, as his body takes a break from emptying itself of the wine he drank.

"You're learning the hard way," Annella says. She leaves a glass of water on the floor next to Elio. "Drinking that much wine is never a good idea, even on a full stomach." 

"I'm sorry."

"I know, darling, but it's Marzia you need to apologise to, not me. I'll be down the hall if you need me."

"Stay, please."

"I'd stay if you were sick," she says. 

The door creaks when she checks on Elio an hour later, to make sure he’s breathing and hasn't choked on his own vomit. He's lying on his front, mouth open, snoring. The bucket next to his bed is empty. She kisses his cheek.

Annella takes a shower, and she hopes the sound of it running will drown out her tears, and won’t wake her husband. 

*

Elio has a headache the next morning. He takes a seat at the table for breakfast, but the smell of food makes him nauseous. 

"Why did you behave like that?" Sammy asks. There's no anger in his tone, just disappointment, but Elio’s not sure if that’s worse.

"I don't know," he says. Once he'd started drinking, it was like he'd not been able to stop. The thoughts and all the pain were drowned out by the alcohol, and he’d enjoyed the feeling of being disconnected from his body.

"It's normal for kids your age to experiment and get drunk, but you went a bit too far."

"I know!" says Elio. “I’ve got a bad headache. Can I have some pain killers?”

"Is Armie able to do telephone appointments, do you think?" Sammy asks Annella. "I think Elio should talk to him."

“We could contact him and ask him to,” says Annella. “Have some water, Elio, and try some toast. It’ll sit better on your stomach.”

Elio takes a deep breath, tries to shake off the nausea, but he loses the battle. He presses his hands to his mouth and rushes to the bathroom. 

“I’m never getting drunk again,” he whines. 

“Oh, tesoro,” his mother says, rubbing his back.

*

“I’m so sorry,” he says to Marzia, later that morning. “It was...I was so...yeah, it was shitty of me to drink all of your parents wine and get, like, blind drunk.”

“It was shitty of you,” agrees Marzia. “How’s your head?”

“I’m in pain, and I spent the whole night puking,” says Elio. “I’m never drinking again. We can still be friends, though, right? Please say yes.”

“I’m not going to stop being friends with you just because you got drunk at my house. That boy’s really fucked you up.”

*

Elio’s heart skips a beat when he checks his phone the next morning and sees that Oliver’s texted him. He’s not stopped thinking about Oliver since he got on the plane. 

He remembers the conversation they’d had in the restaurant Oliver took him to, how Oliver had said it felt so good to come out. Elio’s therapist had made a good point, too, when he’d told Armie about it. Oliver had trusted Elio enough to tell him he was gay. He’s not come out to anyone else yet.

Elio worries, though. He’s figured out that he’s bisexual, but he’s not sure if he’s accepted it. He’s never even had a girlfriend or a boyfriend, so how’s he going to know what he is yet? But he knows, too, that he’s attracted to girls and boys, and that means he’s bi. He’d like to go on a second date with Oliver, because that meal they’d gone on had been their first date, right? Oliver had said it could be, if Elio wanted it to be. 

**OLIVER** _Nate’s not coming back to school_

**OLIVER** _ His mom has moved him to Manhattan _

**OLIVER** _ She's applied for full custody of him _

**OLIVER** _ It's over _

_ * _

Elio doesn't tell his parents about the texts from Oliver. He overhears them discussing Elio and his mother moving back to Milan after the holidays, while Papa finishes his work at Harvard, although neither had been keen on the idea.

"I think we should talk to Elio before we make any decisions," says Sammy. "He's 16 now. But I think we should go back to the US. It's just until July."

"Yes, I agree," says Annella. "We won’t mention that we have talked about Milan as an option."

Elio sits beside his mother and yawns. 

"We were just talking about school," Sammy says. "Your mom and I want to remove you from that school and send you to a different one."

Elio thinks about the messages Oliver sent him. What if Oliver’s lying to him? Why would he lie to him? Oliver’s always seemed genuine. Well, not at the beginning, when he let Nate beat Elio up, but Elio understands why Oliver did that. And if Nate’s no longer at the school, it might be better. 

"I heard Nate’s left the school and gone to live with his mom in Manhattan," says Elio. "Oliver told me. If that's true, I think I want to go back."

*

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> internalized biphobia....am i right?? i still struggle with it...like, I know i'm attracted to everyone (so maybe i'm really pan, but anyway) but I still invalidate my own sexuality ??? ha. fml.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elio goes back to school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so sorry this update took 2 weeks. Work got very busy, and then I lost motivation to edit, and then i forgot about it !!!

Elio tosses and turns. It’s his first day back at school tomorrow after the holidays and he’s not able to sleep. What if Oliver’s lied to him and Nate’s there tomorrow? Elio’s spent a lot of time thinking about Oliver over the holidays. He’s not been able to stop thinking about him, actually. He’s composed two pieces for piano over the break, both playful and lively, like Oliver. His mother burst into tears when she’d walked into the sitting room on Christmas Eve to find him sitting at the piano, because he hadn’t touched it for weeks and she was sure it was evidence that he was getting better.

Elio flips onto his back, throwing his hands over his face. Oliver’s the only reason he thought he wanted to go back to this stupid school. He’s not sure what he’s trying to achieve by agreeing to return to this school. Maybe he’s trying to prove to someone (himself? Oliver? Mamma and Papa?) he doesn’t give up. He'd discussed it with Armie over the phone one morning, following his drinking binge. 

“Why do you think you need to prove you don’t give up?” Armie had asked.

“I don’t know,” said Elio.

“Do you think you’re scared of failure? Of letting people down?”

“I...both,” Elio had replied.

Elio’s nose is bleeding. He sits up and stuffs some tissues under it to stop the bleeding, and thinks about Mafalda who spent the holiday period making sure he was well fed. She’d berated his mother for not feeding him well, and his mother, usually so calm and laid back, had lost her temper, surprising Mafalda and Elio.

“The child doesn’t eat!” she’d snapped. “We give him food, and he doesn’t eat.” 

Mafalda had given Annella a large glass of wine and a hug, while Elio had retreated into the attic with a novel. Since then, he’s forced himself to eat.

Elio keeps getting flashbacks of the day at school when Nate pushed his head into the toilet. He wakes up in the middle of the night sometimes, choking, covered in sweat, his heart racing. Drowning terrifies him, and yet sometimes Elio wishes Nate had killed him and put him out of his misery.

His phone pings. It's 2am. Who the fuck would text him at 2am? He counts on his fingers and works out that it’s not so early in Italy. Marzia hadn’t spoken to Elio for a week after the drinking incident. 

Elio needs to get up in four hours for school and he’s not slept. He wants to cry. He picks up his phone and unlocks it. 

Over the holidays he'd set up a new Instagram account, making sure he'd set it to private, made sure his username didn't give him away, and set his profile photo as a picture of a piano.

Nate has still found it.

Elio doesn't read the message and deletes the account.

**_Nate_ ** you should kill yourself

**_Nate_ ** just because im no longer at your school doesn't mean i will leave you alone

Elio blocks the number and deletes the messages. 

"I need a new cell phone number," he tells his mother a few hours later, as she pours coffee. 

"Why?" asks Annella.

"I just, I need a new number for a new start. Please."

"Did something happen?" she asks.

Elio shakes his head. Annella tilts her head to the left, looking into his eyes. Elio looks away and stares at his coffee. He'd spoken to his parents and his therapist about lying and hiding things like this from them, but he is tired. Tired of the bullying, tired of the fuss and how his parents worry about him, tired of lying to his therapist about self-harm, because no, he's not ready to quit it yet. He makes sure he cuts superficially in places no one can see. He's careful to hide his tools and throws the bandaids with the blood stains on them away at school, or in the trash cans outside. His parents pay a lot of money for him to see his therapist.

"Elio,” Annella warns.

"Fine. Yes. But I deleted the messages, Mamma. He texted me. I blocked his number. But I need a new number."

*

Nate isn't there when Elio takes his seat in homeroom. His mother had driven him to school, because he’d been certain he'd puke if he got the bus. 

The whole class goes quiet when Elio sits down. He wishes they wouldn't stare at him or whisper about him behind his back. He's so sick of people pitying him. It's a new semester, a new year, a new start. 

“I think it’s brave of you to go back to the school,” his therapist had said. But Elio doesn’t want people to think he’s brave. He has to go to school. His parents have paid the fees. He needs to work hard this semester, make sure he pushes his grades back up. It would be the same, whatever school he’d gone to.

Elio tries to focus on a mark on his desk. Someone’s carved into the desk  _ elio is a fag _ . 

"Is he really not coming back?" he asks Oliver. 

"Yeah. He's in Manhattan."

"Oh."

Elio looks at his desk. He doesn’t remember Oliver being so hot. His blond hair, his blue eyes, his warm, rich voice. Elio’s dick swells and pushes against the fabric of his underwear. His face burns and he covers his erection with his homework book. 

He’s not come out to his parents yet. He's rehearsed it in his head over and over but whenever he's opened his mouth, the words get stuck and he’s had to pretend he's forgotten what he was going to say. He's sure his parents will decide to take him to a memory clinic.

"Elio? Dude, come on, we've gotta go to English class," says Oliver, slapping him on the back.

"Huh?"

"English class. First period."

"Oh, yeah, right." He looks down at his crotch. He's still hard.  _ Fuck. _ He covers it with his books.

Elio doesn't know how it happened, but after last period he finds himself kissing Oliver behind a tree at the side of the school. Oliver tastes like nicotine and greasy fries and smells like stale sweat. Elio feels Oliver’s erection press against his. What are they doing? What if someone sees?

"Uh, um," Elio mutters and pushes himself away from Oliver. "No. Stop. No."

"What?"

"I...this is...I’m sorry." He slings his bag on his back. "Piano lesson." He doesn't have a piano lesson, nor does he have a therapy appointment, but he's not told Oliver about the therapy. God. Oliver knows about his self-harm. He's got to be doing this out of pity, because why else would he kiss someone so broken? Oliver could do so much better. 

"Oh. OK."

Oliver looks hurt, and Elio bites his lip. 

"Elio, I really like you," says Oliver. "I know you've not had an easy time at school, but I think you’re amazing."

"I'm sorry," says Elio.

“Let’s hang out sometime, eh? Tomorrow? After school?”

“Sure,” says Elio. 

**Author's Note:**

> hi. bullying is very serious. if you are being bullied please reach out to someone, and try not to hide it. Because the old saying 'sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me' is complete bullshit. Words hurt, and often they hurt more than broken bones.


End file.
